I like writing poetry. Not all of it is going to be a historical epic or an ode to something. These are like little glimpses of the subway in my mind; my train of thought isn't always artsy or symbolic or deep or meaningful, but I like to think that art takes ordinary things and makes people see a sort of beauty in them. So, look around- I've been doing this for a while. Enjoy ♥

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Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Just the invitation that could lead to a conversation where we would actually speak! was almost too much for me to take, my heart beat its way up into my mouth and stayed there the whole hour that we laughed with each other. I had to talk around it as if I had bitten off more than I could chew and was chewing with my mouth opento you. Really, the truth is that my heart is what was open to you, and the sound of your laughter and the way you sigh during small pauses while you’re searching for something to say. Sometimes your words would boost me up inside, and I felt more bright for them. So all of you came rushing in, and I’m almost sad to say that I bit down on the whole she-bang, hook line and sinker. Is it bad that I let you in again? I can’t bring myself to care. Go ahead, here’s your old office- it’s not like anyone else was going to work there.

For someone who left, but has come back.The way things were before everything.

Monday, January 18, 2010

I held you to my ear hoping to hear a heartbeat but I only heard the ocean I try to sleep but can only lie awake haunted by the roaring sound of your waves breaking against my semi-solid shores sucking at the sand beneath my feet because I offered you my love but you didn’t want it anymore

Friday, January 8, 2010

Whole body tremors, chest tight, can’t breathe, eyes squeezed shut, teeth bared, tears burn. You make me laugh so hard that it feels a little bit like dying. It’s the best feeling you could give me, and I wouldn’t trade it for a thing.

I love those moments.I need to start writing things a bit more chipper.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Emptiness, deceptive and mean-spirited, steals memory so that I forget what was it that I was longing for? And oh the longing, emptiness reminds me of it with a nasty self-pleased sneer saying, You don’t have it, you don’t have it, it’s gone and you want it back. What, whom, where, when? I cannot recall the thing or place or friend that I am vacant of, but I can feel the weight and shape of its loss inside of me. What a tragedy!

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Cold nights are like reminders, bits of string tied around my fingers, bows caught on the edges of my mind. Thoughts and feelings, conversations and dreams- things I’d almost left behind. These blankets and covers could never disguise the feeling of longing that I’m ignoring inside. I’ve shut my eyes tight, but your smile still shines on the back of my eyelids. Don’t worry, this doesn’t mean that you’ve gotten to me- as long as I don’t want to face it, then there’s nothing waiting to be seen.

This is and example of the ostrich's method of living.It doesn't work.